Recipe For Love
by Gwendolyn James
Summary: Hermione tries to suprise Ron with a romantic dinner. Unfortunately, nothing goes as planned. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Bummer.

A/N: Izzy, this fic is for you as an incredibly belated birthday present! I hate when real life messes up my schedule! ;) But I saved this BP plot just for you, babe. Enjoy!

* * *

Hermione smiled proudly to herself as she surveyed her creation. After hours of careful preparation, supper was finally ready, and it looked perfect. She checked the clock on the wall. Ron had taken advantage of the perfect weather on his day off and had gone flying with Harry, but he had said he would be home by five.

She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. She'd never cooked for Ron before – she'd never cooked for _anyone_ before, actually – and she really wanted this night to be special.

Hermione was lighting the last candle when Ron came through the back door. He took one look at the carefully set table and grinned. "Is all this for me?"

"For _us_," she corrected with a smile. "It's our ten-day anniversary, you know."

Ron laughed. "Ten whole days? What a milestone." He leaned in and kissed her breath away. "Looking for an excuse to celebrate?" he winked.

"Maybe," she admitted, soaking in his nearness. "I made your favorite."

"_You're_ my favorite," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to sit down. After the plates and glasses were filled, she sat down across from him and smiled. "Try it."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he grinned, picking up his fork. Hermione watched anxiously as he took a bite, closed his eyes, and swallowed.

"Well? How is it?"

He nodded for a moment without meeting her gaze and then said, rather unconvincingly, "Good. It's good." He reached for his glass and took a long sip.

"Really?" she frowned. Picking up her own fork, she took a bite and instantly regretted it. She forced herself to swallow the bitter concoction along with her tears.

"Hermione, I…"

"Why didn't you just say it was awful?" she asked, hating the way her voice shook. "You could have told me it was awful." An odd noise came from her husband, and she looked up to see that he was hiding laughter. "I'm so glad you find this amusing, Ronald Weasley," she snapped, rising from her chair and glaring at him, "but I don't!" She grabbed his plate and dumped the food into the bin. "You can find your own meals from now on."

"Hermione…"

She turned and stormed up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She was too angry to shout, too angry to even throw anything. She merely crawled onto the bed and sobbed into her pillow.

A few minutes later she heard the door open. "Hermione, I'm really sorry."

She closed her eyes and kept her back to him. "It doesn't matter."

She felt the mattress give beneath his weight as he sat down beside her. "I shouldn't have laughed."

"I just… I just wanted it to be special," she choked.

"It _was_ special," he said. "_Really_ it was." She heard him sigh. "Hermione, please look at me."

Reluctantly she rolled over and looked at him through tear-stained eyes. "I'm sorry I ruined your supper."

Ron grinned. "I've eaten worse, believe me."

She scowled. "Liar."

"No, really!" he insisted. "When I was about seven, Percy decided he would make supper so Mum wouldn't have to. It was an odd mixture… I think he just found things in the cupboard and threw them into a pot." He made a face. "Not something I'd ever like to experience again."

Hermione felt herself smiling at the image. "Sorry I made you relive that."

"It really doesn't matter, Hermione," he reiterated. "We can celebrate our ten-day anniversary without supper."

She bit her lip. "Really?"

He leaned down and kissed her. "Really."

* * *

Hermione looked mournfully at the tiny fragments of eggshell floating in the bowl and sighed. "Isn't there an easier way to do this?"

Molly Weasley laughed. "Of course, but I find that cooking by magic never gets the same results. And with seven men in this family, good food is a must."

Hermione nodded. She'd certainly learned the truth of that statement the hard way. However, she was determined to make up for last night's disaster. So her first meal hadn't been exactly edible, but everyone was entitled to one mistake, right? Besides, she'd gotten fair marks in Potions, and that's really what cooking was, in a way… wasn't it?

She chanced another look at the mixture in the bowl and knew she was in trouble. She'd never been the domestic sort. Her parents had always encouraged her intellectual pursuits, which had certainly paid off, but now… now things were different. Nevertheless, Hermione was not one to give up on something difficult, which was precisely why she had come to the Burrow – to ask her mother-in-law for cooking lessons.

With another sigh, Hermione began to pick the eggshells out of the bowl. "I really thought making supper would be such a simple thing. I mean, honestly, I'm an intelligent woman. I should be able to make one meal without poisoning my husband."

Molly chuckled. "Not everyone has a talent for the culinary arts. Believe me, it's a miracle Arthur survived our first year of marriage."

Hermione looked up in surprise. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I accidentally made a rhubarb pie with the rhubarb leaves still in it, blissfully unaware that the leaves were poisonous." She smiled. "He was fine, other than an upset stomach, but I cried for days over that one."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "How did you learn to cook, then?"

"Same way you are – by asking my mother-in-law." Molly's eyes twinkled. "It's a long-standing tradition among the women who marry into the Weasley clan, and some day you will do the same with _your_ daughter-in-law."

Hermione let out a deep breath. "Assuming we make it through our next meal."

Molly reached out and patted her hand. "Well, if you get completely desperate, you can always make Ronald cook."

Hermione laughed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Sure about what?" Ron asked from the doorway.

Hermione turned, startled. "Ron! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," he grinned. "So the real question is what are _you_ doing here?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" His gaze took in the flour in her hair, the egg yolk on her shirt, and the cup of sugar in her hand. "Doesn't look like nothing to me."

"Ronald, stop being so nosy," his mother scolded, smacking his arm with a wooden spoon. "Leave the poor girl alone."

Ron raised his hands in surrender and grinned. "I'm just curious, that's all!"

"Well, go be curious somewhere else!"

"Aw, c'mon, Mum. If you let me stay, I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

Molly scowled at him for a moment and then nodded. "Fine. I'm going to go talk to your father, and when I get back…"

Ron gave her a mock salute. "Hermione will be safe and unscathed, or you can send me home without any dessert."

Molly left the kitchen shaking her head in exasperation. When she was gone, Ron placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead. "I missed you today."

She bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. "You did?"

"Oh, definitely. You're much better company than Harry. And a much better kisser."

"Ron!" she laughed, shaking her head. "That is a horrible image! I'll have nightmares for weeks!"

"I don't see why," he replied, completely straight-faced. "Harry's a very good-looking man."

Hermione could hardly breathe for laughing. "Change the subject, please!"

"All right," he said, "tell me why you're at the Burrow cooking with my mum."

Hermione sobered. "You know why."

"I do?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Ron, I _have_ to learn how to cook!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Well, unless you want to live off of beans and toast for the rest of our marriage, yes, I do!"

Her words hung in the air, and she could see that he was contemplating how to answer. Finally he took a deep breath and said, "Hermione, why don't you just let _me_ do the cooking?"

She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her lips. "Ron, I…"

His eyes widened. "What? You don't think I can cook?"

"No, it's not that… it's just…" she frowned. "Well, all right, it _is_ that, but…"

"I'll have you know that I'm an exceptional chef," he stated proudly. "I've made quite a few meals for this family."

Hermione looked at him, perplexed. "When did you learn to cook?"

"When I was about ten, I guess. I think Mum had given up on teaching any of my brothers how to cook, so she decided that Ginny and I would be her students. I actually turned out to be not half bad."

"And why didn't you tell me this last night?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. "I've been worried sick that I'm going to poison you with my awful cooking!"

Ron grinned. "I do believe I was busy trying to get you not to throw plates at my head."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have thrown anything at you."

"Well, you know what I always say, better safe than dead."

"You don't always say that."

"I think I'd better start."

Hermione bit her lip against the grin that threatened. "What am I going to do with you?"

His eyebrows danced up and down. "I've got some ideas."

"So do I," she smirked, "starting with you making me supper."

"Well, I suppose my eternity of servitude has to start sometime." He reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "You know, I think I like being married to you."

She laughed against his shirt. "You'd better like it, because there's no escape."

"Unless I let you poison me."

"Oh, hush."

FIN


End file.
